


Ripples in a Pond

by Macx



Series: Imperfection Deviation [45]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-04
Updated: 2009-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz finally deals with nearly losing Barricade, and Barricade finally deals with the changes in the past years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples in a Pond

Energy coursed through him, tearing him apart. He was flung through an endless tunnel, leaving a part of him behind; leaving his body, his only connection with life. He screamed, trying to fight, but he couldn't. He was thrown into a pool of blackness, blue lightning exploding around him.

He brushed against something, something strange and alien, but also the only connection with reality. He tried to reach out for it, but it brushed past, hurtling away from him. Desperately he called, crying for help, feeling his life force dwindling.

Panic gripped him in a tight fist.

He screamed again, this time in terror.

oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo

Jazz was ripped out of recharge with a force that left him stunned and disoriented. His mind was awhirl with images he had had only fleeting recollections of before. His circuits were shaking with the remembrance of the nightmare and he was unable to move, gripped by the sheer terror from those unknown memories.

Echoes from the scarred wounds where his revival had left deep holes in his memory. Usually he only stumbled upon them when he tried to recall an event that was gone, beyond recovery, only a shadow left behind. A memory shadow. Now the shadows had risen, had bled echoes of what had once been into his waking mind.

Jazz shivered.

The stress of nearly losing Barricade had taken its toll.

After some time the terror faded. His pump quieted down and his systems evened out.

 _Damn!_ He thought angrily. _I'm past this! I'm no rookie! I handled this!_

Apparently he hadn't.

Jazz left the recharge chamber, aimlessly walking through the base. He ended up outside, drawn along the spark-bond to where he suspected Barricade was.

oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo

Barricade wasn't a mech one usually connected with deep, insightful contemplations of life and his place in the universe. He knew his place within the alliance between him and the Autobots, he knew what connected him to several individuals. He knew how to handle himself, he was well aware of his strength and powers.

He had never died before. He had never been damaged so badly that it had been a miracle he had survived.

Because he shouldn't have been able to survive. This had been his death.

He had also never had human memories and emotional bursts before. Now he had them; Sam Witwicky's. It hadn't been the human's fault. He had simply tried to save Barricade. That it had left traces – quite pronounced traces – had been an accident.

In a way it helped the mech with understanding the technopath, as well as some of the humans associated with him, even if it was only a tiny trickle here or there. Another Decepticon would call him impure, tainted, not worthy of being a Cybertronian, much less a Decepticon.

Barricade had slowly but surely lost his identity within that particular faction over the past several years on this planet. Ever since Mission City. Megatron was dead. He was an ally of the Autobots. His designation wasn't as a Decepticon any more, nor was he an Autobot, but he couldn't be called neutral either. He was simply Barricade.

Watching the clear night sky with its many stars, its vast infinities, Barricade had a moment of complete loneliness. He was nothing but a small spark in this vastness, and he had nearly been extinguished. His mind was wandering through this infinity, but it always encountered one obstacle on every way he took.

_He was floating in a region between light and darkness. Everything around him was a murky grey, now and then interrupted by a flash of wildly swirling colors. There was no pain, no sensation at all, except for being watched. He turned to see who was here with him, but he found he couldn't. He was unable to move, paralyzed. A tiny spark of panic ignited deep inside of him, bringing memories of distant events. He couldn't grab those memories and they brushed past without ever giving him a chance to keep them_

And then he saw it, a tiny spark of white light in the middle of the blackness. It pulsed weakly, struggling to live. Without conscious thought he reached out for the spark and to his amazement he changed course to intercept it. The spark flickered badly.

He touched it.

Sensation and awareness came back to him so fast that it was a real shock. His nerves flared with pain, agonizing white-hot pain that seemed to go on and on.

He flinched as those memories came back with a force that threatened to engulf him wholly. Why was he so emotionally involved in this? He had been through worse – but he had never died. He had seen death and destruction, he had killed and destroyed, but nothing had ever come this close to extinguishing his spark.

A spark that was bonded to another.

A bond that was by now so close and tight and inseparable, Barricade couldn't imagine leaving Jazz again, to fight on the opposite side.

Something touched him quizzically and he turned to face his bonded. Jazz looked and felt as upset as he was and he wordlessly let the Autobot come closer. Blue optics burned with the inner turmoil and Barricade reacted. He knew he had spent too much time among humans as he embraced the other mech, as he let armor settle against armor. But maybe this was good. Maybe adopting new ways in expressing their bond was just what was needed. Jazz loved humanity, all their cultures and languages and art and music and their internet. He was at ease with the human way, and Barricade was learning it in little doses. Sam was a major contributor. His memory shadows helped, though they were a bother sometimes, too. To the point where he wanted to simply erase his processor. Well, not that badly, but human intercourse was… disturbing.

There was no hesitation in letting Jazz in and Jazz hummed in need and comfort in one. Their sparks melted together, their physical forms embracing, and Jazz dug his fingers as tightly into Barricade's armor as Barricade's claws held on to him.

::We'll get through this:: Jazz promised.

Barricade sent his agreement.

::Look at us:: the Autobot joked weakly. ::Messed up::

::Survivors:: Barricade rumbled.

He wanted to live. This was what he wanted to live for. No alliance meant anything to him. Decepticons, Autobots… whatever faction, he didn't care. Jazz was important.

oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo

Barricade wasn't sure when he had started his 'job', but it had become something of a routine to listen in to the police radio. He doubted his disguise was influencing him, but he was too bored most of the time to do much else but sit and watch the humans around him. They had a degree of respect for police vehicles, though not all were friendly. Some were outright hostile, though no one had attacked him yet.

Over time he started to follow the local police activity and he sometimes aided in the apprehension of a fleeing vehicle or pedestrian. At first it had been almost unconscious. After listening in to a call about a robbery he had detected the fleeing suspect. He had rolled to the end of the street the man had to cross and surprised the human by sliding almost noiselessly onto the street. The man went sailing over his hood and landed on the street.

Barricade simply drove off into the traffic.

From then on he became part of law enforcement – in a very secret kind of way.

Jazz teased him mercilessly about it, but there was also an underlying pride. Barricade snorted. He didn't need anyone's appreciation and he didn't need Jazz to be proud of him.

But a tiny part of him felt good.

He usually kicked it into the dark recesses of his mind.

oooo oooo oooo oooo oooo

If anyone noticed the changed decals in the days to come, no one commented on it. Sam only looked at him with a knowing smile and gave the black-and-white mech a nod. Ironhide's long, hard look had Barricade give him a challenging one in return, but nothing came of it. Optimus Prime appeared surprised, but he didn't call Barricade on it either.

The Mustang went on his routine patrols, still bearing the number 643, still without specific state or city markings for the police, but now his motto read something else.

"And it only took you how long?" Jazz remarked as they drove toward Mission City where Barricade wanted to scare the crap out of some of the lowlife dealers.

Barricade simply rumbled something that had the Solstice send amusement over their bond.

'To shield and protect' could be read on his sides.


End file.
